


El Lobo Y El Zorro (The Wolf And The Fox)

by Annabeth_Crestfallen_LeMorte



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:38:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annabeth_Crestfallen_LeMorte/pseuds/Annabeth_Crestfallen_LeMorte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Did a bit of live-writing tonight with a few lovely ladies from the Sterek Chatroom.</p><p>Luiza prompted: "Sterek - they're both hitmen & they have to kill a bunch of people together & they totally have a lot of fun doing it.  Bonus if they hug and kiss after the job is done or something."</p><p>There's no actual 'killing a bunch of people' but there's hugs and kisses. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	El Lobo Y El Zorro (The Wolf And The Fox)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, they remain the property of their respective owners. I'm just borrowing them to play for a little bit. All the stories are done for fun, not profit.

Derek lifts his head, eyes narrowing briefly before returning to look through the scope once more.  He takes a deep breath and holds it for a two count, exhaling as his finger starts to pull the trigger.  The sound of a gunshot rings out and Derek’s target jerks.  Derek lifts his head and clenches his jaw; index finger still on the half-pulled trigger of his .50 cal.  He eases his finger off the trigger and looks through the scope.  Sure enough, his target is flat on his back, a pool of blood seeping into the asphalt beneath him **.**

“God-fucking-dammit!”  Derek detaches the scope from the top of the rifle and pans it over the surrounding rooftops.  He knows who he’s looking for...he just needs to... _there_.  Eight hundred yards away is that unmistakable flag marker.  That damn little flag, with the smiling fox on it, is the bane of Derek’s existence.   Scrawled in one corner of the flag is the number three.  Below the white pennant is a much smaller red one with a wolf on it; a snarling wolf with a big fat zero over it.  Derek snarls, hands automatically disassembling the sniper rifle, even as he fumes.

Three kills.  

The Fox has already stolen two of his paychecks and with this one, Derek is beginning to wonder if it’s a coincidence or something more.  He shuts the steel case and stands, slinging it across his back.  Derek rushes to the stairwell and makes his way down quickly.  He’s in his car and pulling into traffic long before the sound of sirens makes it to his ears.

Later that night, as he’s stepping through his front door, Derek receives a text from Peter.  Two words: **_I’m disappointed_**.  

Leave it to Peter to put it so succinctly.  Derek tosses his cellphone and keys onto the desk and strips on the way to the bedroom.  He scrubs a hand over his face, fingertips pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Hey, D,” Derek looks up at the sound of Stiles’ voice and pastes a believable smile on his face, “you okay?”

Derek nods, “Yeah, just a bad day at work.  That’s all.”

Stiles cards his fingers through Derek’s hair and smiles up at him, “Awww, poor baby.  Anything I can do to help?”  He pulls him down to rest on his shoulder and lightly scratches at the nape of his neck.  Derek shakes his head and curls a hand on Stiles’ hip, “You sure?  I’ve been told I’m good with aiding in relaxation.”  

“You are.”

A little chuckle escapes Stiles and Derek lifts his head to press their foreheads together.  Stiles is grinning at him, “Want some good news?”

Derek nods, “Sure.”

Stiles face breaks into a brilliant smile, eyes bright with excitement, “So, you know that guy I told you about?”  Derek starts toward the master bedroom and Stiles follows behind him, chattering happily, “The one that I’m up against for that big promotion?”

“Yeah?”

“So yeah, well, my boss gave us this really big account to work on...against each other, like a competition?  And well...I got it.”

Derek tugs his shirt over his head and rolls his neck, first one way and then the other, groaning at the pull of muscle, “Congrats, babe.”

Stiles shoves at his shoulder, “Congrats?  That’s it?”  He scoffs under his breath and frowns, “I get a fifty thousand dollar bonus and all I get from you is a ‘congrats, babe’?  Damn, Derek, tone down your fucking excitement.”

“Fifty grand?”  Derek’s eyebrows lift, eyes narrowing, “That’s quite a bit of money.”

“I, well,” Stiles clears his throat and looks away, “it was a very big account.”

“I’ll say.”  Derek moves to the corner dresser and waves his left hand over the top, fingers tapping along the upper edge of it, “So, what’s the account?  If you don’t mind me asking, I mean.”  The dresser top flickers briefly and Derek presses his palm over the light, a spring-loaded compartment sliding open.  His right hand curls around the handle of the gun and he’s dropping to one knee as he turns.  A split-second before his knee hits the carpet, a gunshot rings out and shatters the mirror behind him.  Derek hisses as a shard of glass lodges in the back of his neck, “It was you?”

Stiles backs up a step as Derek stands, his gun aim level on the center of his chest, “Seems so.”

“All this time,” Derek advances on him another step, “all these months...the work trips and deadlines, those were-”

“Oh they were deadlines,” Stiles smirks and backs into the hallway, bare feet silent on the floor as he retreats, “there were lines drawn and those two guys -correction- those three guys, they looked pretty dead when I left.”

“You asshole.”  Derek lowers his gun and ejects the clip, “I’ve been living in the same fucking house with you and...wait...” he pulls the slide back, the round popping out of the chamber, “Did you know it was me?”  Stiles nods.  Derek tosses the gun onto the bed and crosses to the closet, “How?”

“Your sister calls you _lobo_ , Derek,” the scorn is thick in his voice, “did you really not expect me to figure it out?”  Stiles lowers the handgun, tucking it into the waistband of his jeans.  His fingers tug at the sleeve of his shirt, “What I want to know is this...how did you _not_ know it was _me_?”  Stiles holds out his forearm towards him.  There, on the inside of his wrist, is a small fox tattoo identical to the fox from the flag markers.

Derek takes a step forward and then another, when Stiles doesn’t retreat.  He chuckles under his breath, “I thought it was strange that she called you _zorro_.  I didn’t make the connection,” Derek traces fingertips over the tattoo, “until now.  She wasn’t calling you ‘Zorro’ was she?”

Stiles shakes his head, “No.”

“I feel so stupid.”

“Yeah well,” Stiles shrugs and pulls him closer, “I _am_ the brains in this outfit.”  Derk snorts a laugh and Stiles grins, “You got the looks and brawn.”

“Don’t forget, you got the humility as well.”

“Oh yeah, how did that slip my mind?”  Stiles wraps both arms around Derek’s shoulder, “So, are you mad?”

“Depends.”

Stiles cocks his head to the side, “On what?”

“You paying for that mirror,” Derek jerks his thumb towards the bedroom.  Stiles winces, “and the cost to repair the wall.  AND.  You’re using your first aid knowledge.”

“Oh?  Why?”  Derek reaches up and wipes tentative fingers on the back of his neck, lifting his hand up for Stiles to see the smears of blood on it.  He watches Stiles’ eyes widen and allows himself to be manhandled into the master bath.  It’s some ten minutes later, as Stiles snips the final suture, that he mutters, “Sorry about the whole mirror/wall thing.”  Derek grunts softly, but doesn’t say anything.  Stiles dips his head to meet his gaze, “and I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“You tried to shoot me, Stiles.”

Stiles’ mouth drops open, “You were going for your not-so-cleverly-hidden weapon!”

“I wasn’t going to shoot you, you moron.”  Derek flicks the end of Stiles’ nose and rolls his eyes, “It was just a precaution.  You know, just in case you became...unreasonable.”  He holds a hand up when Stiles opens his mouth to speak, “AND it turns out I was right.  You’re crazy.”

“Like a fox.”

Derek groans as the words are spoken, lips pressing together, “You’re such a-”

Stiles slaps a hand over Derek’s mouth, “Shut up and kiss me you, cold-blooded killer.”

“Me?  What about you?”

“I’m a Master Assassin thank you very much.”

“Wait,” Derek holds up a hand and fights back a laugh, “I get stuck with ‘cold-blooded killer’ and you get ‘master assassin’?”

“Not ‘master assassin,’” Stiles tuts at him softly, “‘Master Assassin’ with caps.  You know, like a superhero?”

“A superhero?  Who kills people?  For money?”

“Well yeah, how else am I supposed to pay for the vacation to Bora Bora?”  Derek arches a brow, “Oh, I bought us tickets for a two week vacation to Bora Bora.”  Stiles grins, “I trust your passport is current?”  Derek tugs his closer by the belt loops and noses at his chin.  “Is that a yes, _Señor Lobo_?”

“Yes,” Derek tugs him closer still, lips brushing over his, “that’s an affirmative.  Now shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”  Stiles laughs and bridges that final hairsbreadth, crushing their lips together.

Derek has to admit, he does enjoy the first week in Bora Bora.  Granted, they never leave the hotel room, but the beach looks nice.  From their balcony.  Turns out the second week of ‘vacation’ was a job.  Derek can’t even find it in himself to be upset when Stiles leaves another little flag marker at his lookout point.  This time with a four scrawled next to the fox’s smiling face; the smaller wolf flag looking decidedly more sad with the tears and yet another big fat zero drawn over his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on [tumblr](http://annabethlemorte.tumblr.com/). I promise I don't bite...much. *grins*
> 
> Please be warned: Blog is NSFW.


End file.
